Pop. 1280

I looked at her, with her hair spilled out on the pillows and the warmth of her body warming mine. And I thought, god-dang, if this ain't a heck of a way to be in bed with a pretty woman. The two of you arguing about murder, and threatening each other, when you're supposed to be in love and you could be doing something pretty nice. And then I thought, well, maybe it ain't so strange after all. Maybe it's like this with most people, everyone doing pretty much the same thing except in a different way. And all the time they're holding heaven in their hands.

I ain't saying you're a liar, because that wouldn't be polite. But I'll tell you this, ma'am. If I loved liars, I'd hug you to death.

I'd been chasing females all my life, not paying no mind to the fact that whatever's got tail at one end has teeth at the other, and now I was getting chomped.

Practically every fella that breaks the law has a danged good reason, to his own way of thinking, which makes every case exceptional, not just one or two. Take you, for example.

People looking for easy answers to big problems. People that blame the Jews or colored folks for all the bad things that happen to ‘em. People that can’t realize that a heck of a lot of things are bound to go wrong in a world as big as this one. And if there is any answer to why it’s that way – and there ain’t always – why, it’s probably not just one answer by itself, but thousands of answers. But that’s the way my daddy was – like those people. They buy some books by a fella that don’t know a god-danged thing more than they do (or he wouldn’t be having to write books). And that’s supposed to set ‘em straight about everything. Or they buy themselves a bottle of pills. Or they say the whole trouble is with other folks, and the only thing to do is to get rid of ‘em. Or they claim we got to war with another country.

It had soaked in on him at last, the spot he was in. Soaked clear through a quart of booze until it hit him where he lived and rubbed the place raw.

a heck of a lot of things are bound to go wrong in a world as big as this one. And if there's an answer to why it's that way - and there ain't always - why, it's probably not just one answer by itself, but thousands of answers.

what else is there to do but laugh and joke...how else can you bear up under the unbearable?

you might think it wasn't real nice to kick a dying man, and maybe it wasn't, but I'd been wanting to kick him for a long time, and it just never had seemed safe till now

Maybe it don’t seem to make sense for a fella to be doing things for a reason that he don’t know about. But I reckon I’ve been doing it most of my life.

I yawned and I stretched. I sure was needing some sleep, but I guess I'm always in need of sleep like I'm always in need of food. Because my labors were mighty ones--ol' Hercules didn't know what hard work was--and what is there to do but eat and sleep? And when you're eatin' and sleepin' you don't have to fret about things you can't do nothing about. And what else is there to do but laugh an' joke...how else can you bear up under the unbearable?

if I wasn't a decent woman I'd heist a leg and pee in your ear until it washed out that stinking pile of crap you call brains.

I got a pole and fishing line from under my bed. I came back out of the bedroom and called to Myra, asking her if she could pack me up a lunch because I was going fishing. And I guess you know what she told me. So I left. There weren’t many people on the street that late at night, almost nine o’clock, but practically everybody that was up asked me if I was going fishing. I said, why, no, I wasn’t, and where did they ever get an idea like that? “Well, how come you’re carryin’ a fish pole and line, then?” this one fella said. “How come you’re doin’ that if you ain’t goin’ fishin’.” “Oh, I got that to scratch my butt with,” I said. “Just in case I’m up a tree somewheres, an’ I can’t reach myself from the ground.” “But, looky here now—” He hesitated, frowning. “That don’t make no sense.

But you could,” Ken said. “You could. We got a fella over in the jail right now for pleasurin’ a pig.” “Well, I’ll be dogged,” I said, because I’d heard of things like that but I never had known of no actual cases. “What kind of charges you makin’ against him?” Buck said maybe they could charge him with rape. Ken gave him a kind of blank look and said no, they might not be able to make that kind of charge stick. “After all, he might claim he had the pig’s consent, and then where would we be?

It looked like I’d sold my pottage for a mess of afterbirth, as the saying is. I’d been chasing females all my life, not paying no mind to the fact that whatever’s got tail at one end has teeth at the other, and now I was getting chomped on.

That’s what she keeps you around for, to diddle her fiddle. Because you’re low-hung and she’s high-strung!

Well, anyway, by the time it got ready to vote, it looked like a fella wouldn’t be able to have no fun at all anymore, if my opponents were elected. About all a fella would be able to do, without getting arrested, was to drink sody-pop and maybe kiss his wife. And no one liked the idea very much, the wives included.

What I was thinking was that she must have buggers in her bloomers or a chigger on her figger, or however you say it. It looked to me like something had better be done about it pretty quick, or her pants would start blazing and maybe they'd set the fairgrounds on fire and there'd be a panic with thousands of people getting stomped to death, not to mention the property damage. And I couldn't think of but one way to prevent it.

Screw you! I’m not going to tell you what I was going to say because I’m a decent woman. But if I wasn’t, you know what I’d say? You know what I’d do to you, you rotten son-of-a-bitch? I’d heist a leg and pee in your ear until it washed out that stinking pile of crap you call brains!

I figure sometimes that maybe that's why we don't make as much progress as other parts of the nation. People lose so much time from their jobs in lynching other people, and they spend so much money on rope and kerosene and getting likkered-up in advance and other essentials, that there ain't an awful lot of money or man-hours left for practical purposes.

No me atrevería a decir que te equivocas, aunque tampoco podría darte la razón.

Néha úgy vélem, épp emiatt nem haladunk úgy, mint a nemzet többi része. Az emberek olyan sok időt töltenek távol a munkájuktól mások meglincselése miatt, és olyan sok pénzt költenek kötélre meg kerozinra, meg arra, hogy előzetesen leigyák magukat, meg a többi szükséges dologra, hogy a gyakorlati dolgokra nem marad se túl sok pénz, se munkaóra.

But everybody does things like that. You might say it was even kind of a compliment to a woman. But this way, when a woman ain’t been a widow long enough to get her weeds wet, it just ain’t respectful. I mean, after all, they’s certain proprieties to observe, and a decent fella don’t hop right on a brand-new widow any more than a decent brand-new widow lets him.

You kind of make us sick to our stomachs, you know? It may not be your fault, but the air turns bad every time you show up.

Holy Jesus, so the stinking son-of-a-bitch is really dead! I'm through with the dirty bastard at last!

He killed his wife and fed her corpse to the hogs!